


Dear Best Friend

by Sevi (KelSevi)



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11366133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelSevi/pseuds/Sevi
Summary: One dreamed of better days that he crafted with his own hands, days that would never again cause pain the way he knew it. One dreamed of days long gone, days spent between the son of a carpenter and the son of a scholar.And their dreams were perfect.





	Dear Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Best experienced listening to [this song.](http://www.hmix.net/music/n/n46.mp3)

     "Don't die on me."

Rain fell heavy across the battlefield in thick waves, and it drilled down on every living being that was unlucky enough to be caught out in it. Droplets plinked against his hair, his clothes, armor, skin--

     "Don't you dare die on me. Gods damn it, Forsyth--"

And against the fallen man he'd crouched over. Red spatter crossed the side of his armor and oozed out of him into the soil.

     "Wake up. Wake up! You and I both know how this ends, so-- do what you're best at, and DEFY that!"

Pale hands clutched the armor and gave it a firm shake. Pale hands that shook, fingers that turned white from the intensity of his hold. Come on, they begged. Come on, he begged.

     "--There, your eyes!" Oh thank Gods. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Yeah, keep your eyes open. Just like that. Good."

Forsyth's eyes were unfocused. Half-lidded, lolling, staring at Python and at the same time not. He barely even blinked, and the archer barely had any time to assess the damage before a question arose that sank his heart.

     "What? No, you're not dying. Shut up." He glanced down. "The wound looks worse than it is. Here, gimmie your hand-- we're gonna hold it here to stop the blood flow, alright?"

Forsyth winced, and a gravelly groan pewtered out from his throat.

     "Yeah, yeah, just like that... Wait, I see a healer in the distance."

     "SILQUE, WE GOT A MAN DOWN! COME HERE, FAST!" Python had never yelled so loud in his life.

     "She's- she's comin'. So hold tight, Forsyth. Hold on. Hey, don't close your eyes yet! Stay awake, idiot, or you really might--"

Forsyth opened his mouth and muttered something.

     "Huh?"

He spoke up.

     "... What're you sayin'? Don't give me that speech yet. I'm not ready for it, and it's not your time yet."

The soldier shook his head, solemnly, and tried again.

     "Look, Forsyth-- you were doin' just great out there. You were!" Frantic. Had to keep talking. Had to keep him occupied. "You took on the whole enemy front lines and wiped 'em out! No man on this entire continent could pull off the stunt you just did."

A slow blink.

     "Yeah, only you could've done that. And y'know what? You saved us because of it. Yes, you. You did that."

He grunted. Python threw on the least disconcerting smile he could manage.

     "Heh, heh. That's right. That was all you. And now you need to keep your sorry ass awake a little while longer."

It hurts.

     "I know it hurts."

...

     "Just hang in there, Forsyth. She's almost here. Stay with me."

   "Stay with me, you stupid bastard... this damned army still needs you more than ever."

  "I still need you."

 "Please. Stay awake. Don't you dare give up, or I'll... I'll hunt you down in the afterlife myself, and kill you again. That's a promise."

"... Forsyth?"

 

・・・

 

The last time Forsyth had ever seen Python cry was when they were little.

Python had gotten spooked - by what, he couldn't remember - and sobbed like no other, albeit quietly. And then there was Forsyth, holding him, whispering words of comfort until he calmed.

How things stay the same.

     "Python." His voice was raspy. "It's okay. Look, I'm alive, see?"

The archer's hands covered his face, but even that was not enough to hold back salty tears from trickling out, or muffle soft, restrained wails.

     "I must've given you a real scare then, didn't I?"

He hiccuped. Forsyth frowned. A weak hand reached out and touched the shivering arms of a man inconsolable.

     "I'm sorry. Truly, I am. I..."

Suddenly, his voice seeped through the lines between his fingers, and it hushed Forsyth.

     "But... I feel as though I must apologize. You know I don't like to see you cry, Python."

He grunted, hissed in a breath, and whimpered.

     "I guess I am a little bit of an idiot." Pause. "A lot of an idiot. Maybe even a whole one. Hah...!" Then, Forsyth winced, and suddenly Python stopped crying. He peeked out between his fingers, watery eyes and flush skin betrayed only by his startled and concerned expression. Had he pushed Forsyth too far?

     "No... I'm fine now. It only hurts a little, but I will be okay." The weak hand that touched his arms now traveled to his shoulder - as far as he could reach, laying down on a makeshift bed.

     "I am okay now, Python."

... Promise?

     "I do promise. You won't have to seek me out in Hell just yet."

... Forsyth... you, f-fucking jackass...

     "I thought you didn't like to swear? Ha ha..."

 

・・・

 

Together.

Warm, so very warm. Warmer than the frigid cold air outside, than the rain, than the countless lifeless bodies they've left, friend and foe and neither.  
Python had Forsyth in his arms. And Forsyth had Python in his own. Two, keeping one another company in such a lonely environment, miles and miles away from home.

From the safety of silence, one whispered.

     "Python."

The other replied, naturally. "Forsyth."

     "How are you feeling? Better?"

     "Yeah. Sorry for worryin' you." Python pressed his nose into the crook of neck belonging to one green-haired soldier.

     "Should you be saying that to me?" Forsyth ran a hand through thick, touseled blue hair. It was hard to, and curls kept getting caught on his fingers. "After all, I nearly--"

     "You'd be doin' me a favor by shutting up," Python interjected, and as though providing bribe, placed a dry-lipped kiss against his skin.

     "... Sorry."

     "..."

     "..."

Silence, once again. Alluring silence enough to wrap them up in blankets far better than the rags the army calls bedsheets. Like a lullaby, it called them both to sleep, to dream of better and brighter days far from the dread and stench of the battlefield.

But before then, the ragged voice of an archer floated sleepily above the deafening silence.

     "I love you, Forsyth."

     "... I love you too, Python."

     "Don't leave me again."

     "... I never left in the first place."

     "Mm."

One dreamed of better days that he crafted with his own hands, days that would never again cause pain the way he knew it. One dreamed of days long gone, days spent between the son of a carpenter and the son of a scholar.

 

And their dreams were perfect.


End file.
